White Stag
by In Flanders Fields
Summary: Harry Potter, proud owner of the small coffee shop, White Stag, doesn't need protecting, not really. He's the Boy-Who-Lived after all. But who is he to defend himself when a mysterious man seems all too willing to do it for him? Wrote this because every guy's crazy about a sharp dressed man, or at least, Harry is.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Any recognizable character from Marvel's Agents of Shield, The Avengers, or Harry Potter is the property of their creators and/or publishers.

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 _"...Either must die at the hand of the other..."_ And so Harry had to kill Voldemort, for just like it was predicted: " _...neither can live while the other survives…"_.

Harry had come out of the battle as the clear victor because once again, he had defeated all odds and _survived_.

If Harry couldn't do anything else but, he could survive, it was the one trait he had that he seemed to be the best at doing.

But he should be, his whole life from the moment his parents had died up until Voldemort was killed had been nothing more than a struggle to survive. Survival of the fittest. If not surviving Voldemort and the Death Eaters attempts to kill him, it was surviving the long summers and even longer years with the Dursley's. Harry might have a knack at surviving but he was also human. And no human wanted to spend his whole life defeating the odds of survival. It got old, fast.

After years of fighting Harry wanted a chance to live his life like he wanted to live it. The prophecy had said that neither could live while the other survived and now that Voldemort was completely out of the picture and the Aurors were taking care of the remaining Death Eaters, Harry could live for himself.

Because after a thunderstorm came a rainbow and Harry was tired of killing.

Some of his best friends had died in the fight to rid England of Voldemort and all the Dark Lord stood for. Sirius, Lupin, Fred, his parents, Dumbledore, Severus... all had made the ultimate sacrifice and now that the war was over and he was the victor, the only thing Harry could do now to honor their memories was to live. Live in ways they could not. Harry could finally live life without fear and worry, he was now a free man to do whatever he wanted to do now that all the families had been reunited with those dearly departed and the others who had survived just like him.

Harry stayed just long enough to join in on the celebrations and gaiety, and help rebuild the buildings and lives that had been damaged during the war. But he was tired of the misplaced hero worship. The real heroes, at least in his opinion, were the people who gave their lives. He needed a new start. One where he wouldn't be recognized as the Boy-Who-Lived, or The Chosen One, or whatever new name they had picked for him.

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Harry had been living in New York City for two years now, and he was loving it. With some of the money, he had been left by his Godfather and his parents, he had bought a coffee shop and aptly named it _White Stag_ to pay homage to his father and all the people who sided with him in the war. It was a small tribute to the larger sacrifices of everyone in the war, but it was a way to honor the support of the light side.

In comparison to the other coffee shops located throughout the bustling metropolis, it was very small, but it was all Harry needed. He never employed anyone to help him in the two years it had been open. This was his way of giving back to make up for all the damage he had caused, whether it was tearing families apart due to people helping him win the war or destruction caused by spell use.

He didn't work for the money, any profits made when to a muggle war relief fund, but rather to have something to keep him busy and as a way to show a simple act of kindness. Although not a fan of coffee himself, Harry liked selling it because he knew it was making other people's day a bit better. Almost everyone liked coffee to varying degrees, and to have one good cup of coffee could potentially turn someone's day around.

Harry remembered back when he had been on the run, and how he longed for the days where he, Ron and Hermione could once again chat over butterbeer or firewhisky. It had been those very memories that had been the deciding factor that led him to open a coffee shop. To have a beverage where people could come together and recall the fond memories of bygone days.

Hermione, Ron, and their children, along with Andromeda and his godson, Teddy, would all come by to surprise him from time to time, or when Ron was in the states on official business. The one Weasley's Wizard Wheezes store in America seemed to be doing well, and Harry would know, as George still insisted Harry remain a silent partner in the business.

Usually, though, he just stayed in contact with the Wizarding world by other means. He'd firecall Teddy every week and spoke to Ron and Hermione on an almost daily basis.

A smile spread over his face as he thought about his godson. He couldn't wait to see him over Christmas.

"I'll have the usual." An impatient voice of a customer who Harry hadn't heard come in said, effectively shaking Harry from his musings.

"Of course," Harry said with a small smile while glancing at the person who had spoken, it was one of the few college students that was a patron of his shop while school was in session.

Whipping up a hot macchiato, that was one size larger than what the boy usually ordered, Harry waited for it to finish making before passing it off to the boy. If the boy noticed the difference in size, he did not comment on it.

Taking a testing sip, the boy gave an appreciative hum before stepping out into the gusty winter wind leaving behind the small, safe and warm embraces of his shop.

The rest of the day saw a steady trickle of people stopping by. Many of them were shoppers hunting for Christmas presents and decided to get something warm before continuing, but others were people on their lunch break, they would order their coffee while looking down at the cellphones or with an air of impatience while Harry hurried to fulfill their orders.

One of the customers Harry saw throughout the day was a man. Nothing about the man seemed to warrant Harry's extra attention, as he was just another businessman but sometime during the two years Harry had been doing this, he found himself looking for him. Harry didn't know his name or what he did, but there was something about the middle-aged man that Harry liked.

Just like him, the man seemed to be shrouded in mystery, although appearance wise he seemed to be just another suited businessman, with a phone in hand, on his lunch break.

That didn't serve basis for anything though, as Harry looked just like another barista but he was also a highly trained wizard.

Regardless of the time of year, he would always be wearing a black suit. A black suit that hugged his frame rather than hung off his frame. It was matched with a black tie, polished dress shoes and on occasion, black aviator sunglasses. If nothing else about the man, he was something to look at.

Even though the man came in every day with the exception of a duration of three month period where Harry hadn't seen hide nor hair of him. It had been a totally new phrase that they did not use in England but it summed up those three months.

At first, Harry assumed that the man had gone on a business trip, as people in that profession were known to do on occasion, but after two weeks, Harry had begun to worry.

Was he going to come back? Two weeks turned into two months and still, the man hadn't come to get a cup of coffee. Another month passed, and it was with a reluctant heart, that Harry came to the conclusion that something had happened to the stranger that he had been silently observing for the last while.

Then one ordinary day out of the blue, the man strolled into his coffee shop as if nothing had ever happened. As if he hadn't been gone for three whole months and walked up to the counter and ordered his regular. Harry had been careful not to show any emotions when he had handed the man his usual but on the inside, Harry remembered being relieved, in the exact same way he had been relieved to see Ron and Hermione after the final battle.

Like clockwork every day after that, the man came in and Harry gave him his coffee. Because he was such a prompt and reliable customer, Harry could take the risk of having it already prepared for him and cast a wordless warming and stasis spell on it so that way when he came, he could just bypass the line.

Today was shaping up to be no different.

Harry had just finished making the businessman his usual and putting it under stasis when the door opened and welcomed the two people Harry had hoped he'd never see again followed by the one person he had been looking forward to seeing.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Any recognizable character from Marvel's Agents of Shield, The Avengers, or Harry Potter is the property of their creators and/or publishers.

* * *

 **Previously:**

… _.Today was shaping up to be no different._

 _Harry had just finished making the businessman his usual and putting it under stasis when the door opened and welcomed the two people Harry had hoped he'd never see again followed by the one person he had been looking forward to seeing._

* * *

" _You!_ " Barked out the newcomer as soon as he spotted Harry behind the counter.

What were the chances that of all the places he would run into the Dursley's it would be here, in New York? In his very own coffee shop. Why were they even in New York?

He had been hoping to observe his mysterious regular some more today (it had become the highlight of his day) but there wouldn't be any of that until he got his aunt and uncle to leave, providing that his uncle did scare the man off first.

"Hullo Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia. Where's Dudley?" Harry questioned in a calm tone that belied his surprise.

His uncle ignored the question though and immediately went in for the attack. "Thought you'd died, boy!" Had anyone else said it the angry tone could have been brushed off as an ill-disguised attempt to show relief, but because it had been his uncle who said it, he probably meant it just like it sounded. Harry just waited for his uncle to continue.

"What happened, convince one of those freaks you associate with to stand in your place? Sounds just like you. Standing back and watching everyone else make sacrifices on your behalf. Just like that freak of a mother-" His uncle noticed the look of fury that had morphed over his nephew's face.

While his uncle was smart enough not to finish the sentence, he moved on to make another jab. "What? Not man enough to admit that you need someone else to fight your battles?" His aunt sensing that Harry was close to losing his temper, chose that very moment to reach out to grasp her husband's beefy arm and interrupted his uncle. Harry didn't think he'd ever been so appreciative of his aunt.  
"Vernon let's _go_. I didn't want tea anyway. I am sure he doesn't carry the kind of Earl Grey I like." Petunia said with a sniff, although there was considerably less malice in her words, she actually had the heart about her to look _slightly_ embarrassed by her husband's tirade.

He brushed her off. "Not until I give that boy a piece of my mind, we aren't! And of course, we won't be getting our refreshments _here_ , Pet, the boy's likely to spit in our drinks or put something in it to poison us if we do."  
Some people never changed. Harry just hoped that none of the other guests took his uncle's words to heart. He noticed some who had never been into his shop before look down at their drinks suspiciously.

He sighed. Some people were willing to believe _anything_. Seriously, what person in his position would go about poisoning drinks? His whole mission was to hang low and not attract any unwanted attention.

Harry stood there looking at his uncle in disbelief that his uncle could be so forward with his abuse. The pause was just long enough for Harry to hear the man who always wore the suits that fit him just _right_ say suavely. "Excuse me, I happen to be a regular to your nephew's shop, and I or anyone else has yet to be poisoned by any of the coffees or scones he has served. And I assure you, that he carries some of the best tea in the city." Harry could have sworn the man had that sort of half-smile he always appeared to wear, the one that held a thousand untold secrets. It wasn't smug per se, but it definitely made you feel like he knew something you didn't. Harry wondered what it was the man knew but wasn't saying.

Harry was surprised if not slightly pleased that the man spoke up on his half, maybe the man had noticed him after all. Not that Harry needed the man defending him. He'd been defending himself from the Dursley's for years now, he knew exactly what grinds his uncle's gears. Harry still sent him a look of warning, hoping the man would get the hint and stay out of it. No need to get someone else involved in his uncle's tirade of abuse if it wasn't necessary.

Vernon dismissed the well-dressed man instantly. "Some regular you are I'm sure. Probably only your second or third time coming here. Well, I will have you know that _that_ boy was a delinquent in his youth. Always stirring up some sort of trouble, got sent to a school for the incurably insane at one point. I should know, I fed him and gave him a place to live for fifteen years. Tried to stamp it out of him too, we did, but lord knows he was too much like his ruffian father for honest blokes like me and Petunia to handle."

Harry really wanted to send a mild hex to his uncle to shut him up but had promised not to use magic on a Muggle no matter how much they might be deserving of a mild hex. He'd just like Voldemort casting magic on (mostly) defenseless muggles. (His uncle might not have magic, but who needed it when you had his mouth and fist.)

"You never did say what you were doing here, boy!"

Harry wanted to say 'because you never asked' or 'the only trouble being stirred up here is what you are stirring up" but knew neither would go over well with his uncle. With so many people listening on, not to mention the man who was watching the interaction intently as if prepared to jump in at a second's notice, he thought that it would be best to just tell the truth, even if it would hurt him in the short run. "I bought this coffee shop, Uncle Vernon," Harry said while silently tacking on a "no thanks to you." Even he was not foolish enough to say that out loud.

"Own it, do you? Who gave you the loan, freak? You have nothing to your name, no money, no home, no family, nothing. No respectable person would loan a freak like you the money to open this place. You probably used some black magic on the poor bloke to give you the money." His uncle and to a lesser extent, his aunt, sneered while looking around the place, obviously looking for something to criticize. Because anything Harry owned had to be second rate to anything they would ever own. Before Vernon could make a comment on anything, Harry spoke up.

"You're wrong uncle. I have family- family I talk to every day. People who actually _care_ about my well being, check to make sure I take time to eat two to three times a day and that I don't work myself to exhaustion," unlike you, he thought to himself. "As for the start-up loan, I didn't need one. I used some of the money that my parents and godfather left me to open this up in their memory. I am the sole beneficiary of everything mentioned in my parent's and godfather's will. According to my financial advisor and the attorneys present at the reading of their wills, none of them left any instructions on how I was supposed to use the money left to me, so I am free to do what I want with it.'

'As for a home, I inherited several properties from my parents and a few more from my godfather. Anyone of them could easily make into a home if I so choose them to be. As it so happens though, uncle, I have chosen to work and live here. I have an estate manager overseeing my all my properties. So you two ought to feel better knowing that I am not some homeless person asking for handouts."

Harry just had to include the financial advisor part, even though the goblins at Gringotts might not be everyone's definition of a financial advisor. For him to be twenty and have enough money to need one would really throw his uncle in a loop, particularly when this was the first time his uncle was hearing about it. As for the estate manager part, he tacked that on just to irk his uncle, even more, the goblins took care of that too so he didn't technically have one, but Harry knew that anybody in his position probably would have one and so tacked it on for good measure, if nothing more than to make his story more believable. Okay, and to rub it in his uncle's face, that he did have something to his name _but_ it was mainly said to make his story more believable.

If he had learned one thing while living with the Dursley's it was: if you have it, flaunt it. And so he'd done just that.

His uncle would no doubt try to scheme his way into getting his hands on at least some of that money, but Harry knew the money was too well guarded to warrant any worry of that ever happening. And it was because he had nothing to worry about so for once, he had thrown all caution to the wind.

"While it is true you and Aunt Petunia have never cared enough about me to see that I wouldn't become anything more than a common criminal, you should at least be proud of what I have managed to accomplish on my own."

It was a long shot, Harry just hoped his uncle wouldn't be foolish enough to try to connive his way to it here.

He was sure that not even Uncle Vernon was that cold-hearted and greedy.

Oh, but Vernon was and he would! The greed and hatred for Harry ran too deep in his veins for him not to.

"Left you money, eh? What about all the money you owe us? All the food you took from Dudley's mouth throughout the years? Have you thought about that? I have kept a list of all the expense you have caused us over the years, boy. It's a lot. You are lucky I don't get the law on you right this minute and sue your arse for everything you have stolen from my family. It'd probably be your ruin. You'd have to sale this…coffee shop of yours, and probably some of those houses too, and struggle like the rest of us who are trying to make a decent living." Vernon said gleefully at the thought of being the one causing Harry financial ruin, it was as if his every wish had come true at the thought of that happening. It probably was. "If anything, they should have left us something for the pain and suffering it caused us to take care of you all these years."

Harry didn't attempt to humor him by reacting, he supposed he had been asking for it, announcing to his uncle that he was well of and financially stable. He just wouldn't give his uncle that satisfaction.

His uncle would try harder to get money out of suing than actually working and probably would try to take it up full time now that he had his nephew's fortune to go after. This man was truly something else, but there was not much Harry could do to stop his uncle without getting the muggle authorities involved and who knew how that would go down. If they showed up, he'd automatically be blamed and then who knows what would happen, his uncle would probably be led out in handcuffs, and his aunt would be left in a state of mortification. Although his aunt had never been kind to him, he could understand, to an extent, the betrayal she must have felt when her sister grew and developed in ways she could not and how hard it was to live in the shadows of someone else. He might have been the Savior of the Light, but he had been nothing in comparison to Dudley.

She did not deserve the embarrassment that her husband was bound to cause, and for her sake alone, Harry ignored his uncle and looked around the café all phones, business, and conversations were long forgotten.

Looking back, he probably could have just nixed it right there before his uncle could continue to make a complete and utter fool of himself, but he didn't. He wasn't thinking rationally at that point.

Everyone was listening in as his uncle publicly aired the family's dirty laundry with no attempt to be discreet about it. Some people were leaving, obviously not appreciating the loud and rude interruption and one man went as far as to leave his cup of untouched coffee behind, probably deciding not to run the risk of drinking it in the event Harry _had_ poisoned it or spit in it. For anyone who would "steal" food from his guardian and go to juvie or whatever, _must_ be up to no good. It was a bit extreme Harry thought, but what could he do? People were free to think and feel the way they wished.

Those that remained firmly rooted in their seats were either looking appalled or disgusted at his uncle's behavior or throwing looks of pity in Harry's direction.

Harry closed his eyes briefly, he didn't want anyone's pity. "Why are you doing this Uncle Vernon?" And he _would_ just have to add fuel to that fire. The police were going to get involved. One way or another, they were going to be called, Harry just knew, because neither of them were capable of _shutting up_.

Vernon narrowed his eyes, "I think they need to know the exact kind of person you are and just what you are capable of doing, and who would know you better than me? You lived under my roof for over fifteen years."

"I don't think this situation calls for a character reference, Uncle Vernon. I am not applying for a job." Harry deadpanned while squaring his shoulders. He wasn't looking for a fight but he wasn't going to let his uncle run over him anymore. He had developed a backbone throughout the years, oddly enough, he had never been able to use it with his uncle.

"I don't appreciate your tone, boy," his uncle warned in a tone that use to send shivers up his back, but after facing Voldemort and his followers throughout the years, Harry had learned that there were many other things in this world that was far scarier than a ticked off uncle.

Harry actually found he had to restrain from rolling his eyes at the comment, his uncle never appreciated anything he did, why would he start now? It didn't bother him anymore- that he would never be able to do something to please his relatives, it was just another fact of life.

It turns out that while he might not be concerned by his uncle's indomitable behavior, he could have very well been the only one.

The man who had been observing the situation from aside spoke up again. "Not to become involved in any family affairs, but for the sake of the remaining customers, it might be better to save this conversation for later." The man interrupted before taking a long sip of his coffee, eyeing his uncle almost daring his uncle to say something else. Harry blinked at him. Where had that come from? He knew, that he was quickly losing the upper hand, or maybe he hadn't had it all, but he had not expected this man to get involved. Hadn't he already vouched for him once?

Vernon looked about ready to ask the man what gave him the right to butt in on personal matters, but the man must have sensed it, and spoke _again_.

"I am sure it is _your nephew_ who is the one that doesn't like your tone of voice. It is in _his_ café that you are verbally abusing or threatening him."

 _Merlin._ At this point, Harry wasn't sure if he should be impressed with the man's insistence on knocking his uncle down a peg. Did this man not think he was capable of defending himself? Harry could… He'd stood up against Voldemort and all his goons.

"Uncle Vernon, whatever it is you want to say to me, you can. There is nothing I can do to stop you (Vernon scoffed at this, but Harry ignored it) but I must agree with Mr.-"  
"Coulson," the man- Coulson, his name was Coulson- replied. Harry knew a name now, so he would now become Coulson instead of "the man".  
"Coulson that, there has to be better time and place to speak your mind. Uncle Vernon, _please_." Harry never thought he'd stoop so low as to beg his uncle here and now, in his own coffee shop at that, but here he was. So much for that backbone, he'd supposedly developed. "You and Aunt Petunia are more than welcome to stay here. Any drinks will be on the house of course, but I _beg_ you to watch what you say in front of the rest of my patrons. One of them might end up calling the police on the account of Disturbance of Peace." Harry said as calmly as he could, but his patience with his uncle was dwindling.

It was the wrong thing to say, but since when did Harry say anything right?

So much for this job being stress-free, as nothing was stress-free when his uncle was around.

"Call the cops on me, would ya?" Why, why, _why_ did his uncle have to view everything he said as a challenge? He was merely stating the possibility and nothing more.

"And just what do you suppose you are going to tell them?"  
What wouldn't Harry like to tell them? How his uncle made his life living hell for the duration that he spent under his roof? They couldn't do anything about that now. Harry was out of their house and no longer considered a dependent.

"Eh boy?"  
"I don't know what I could tell them. You would just twist everything I say and play the victim as you have always done," Harry said with an air of defeat.

"Play the victim?" Vernon growled, face turning from red to a blotchy purple color. "I _play_ the victim, boy? I _am_ the victim!"

Vernon would be the victim here, all right, just not the kind of victim he was used to being.

Oh yes, Vernon Dursley was going down, Coulson would see to that.

After he finished his cup of coffee, of course.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Any recognizable character from Marvel's Agents of Shield, The Avengers, or Harry Potter is the property of their creators and/or publishers.

* * *

 **Previously:**

 _..."Play the victim?" Vernon growled, face turning from red to a blotchy purple color. "I_ play _the victim, boy? I_ am _the victim!"_

 _Vernon would be the victim here, all right, just not the kind of victim he was used to being._

 _Oh yes, Vernon Dursley was going down, Coulson would see to that- after he finished his coffee, of course._

* * *

Harry waited, served some coffee to some guests as the trickled in his unusually full café, went back to waiting and waited some more for the police to arrive, do whatever they had to do to calm his uncle down, and leave. It went without saying that it took a while and caused some of the patrons to stay a bit longer than what they normally likely would have but eventually, the police came and went taking his uncle with them.

Even after the police car had taken his uncle away (Harry really hadn't expected them to actually arrest him, as his uncle had never actually laid a hand on him or anything like that but did so on the grounds of disturbance of peace and communicating threats) the tension in the air refused to evaporate.

Coulson did nothing to ease the tension, as he waited calmly for Harry to finish making the mocha someone had requested taking up a table near the counter, not minding that his lunch hour was well over or bothering himself with the other guest's idle chit-chat. Occasionally he'd check his phone but other than that, Harry surmised that the man must either have a fairly cushy job and a boss who didn't care if he took a two-hour lunch break or he was the boss man himself and had a good staff working under him. That or he wasn't on lunch break and had only worked half-a-day.

"What was that?" Harry hissed, finally running out of patience. Okay so Coulson was right, his uncle wasn't doing him any favors by spewing off at the mouth, but the man really had no right _what so ever_ to butt in and threaten his uncle, in _his_ café no less.

It would be bad for his business if patrons could just go around and threaten other patrons whenever they felt like it, no matter how deserving they might be. Not that something like that would happen on a daily basis, but still… He owned a coffee shop, not a pub, bar- whatever.

"That was me standing up to that man you refer to as "uncle," Mr. Potter. Child abuse can be a criminal charge and is very much frowned upon."

"I could have done that myself, thanks. And he is my uncle, so no need for the emphasis." Harry purposely ignored the child abuse part. He was out of that environment now. What did it matter if he pursued charges? The Dursley's had nothing he would ever want.  
"Yes, you had made how you go about handling your _uncle_ very clear," Coulson said with a raised eyebrow, the smirk had morphed into a slight frown. "I believe I am correct when I say that this is not a singular occurrence." In other words, the only person Coulson thought Harry was fooling no one by denying, or refusing to comment on the accusations of abuse.

Before Harry might have found that knowing-to-the-point-of-cocky smirk interesting, and the well-put-together-man intriguing, but now the man and his antics just downright irked him.

Not because Coulson showed his uncle up. Oh no! At one point in time, Harry would have _paid_ to see that. But because the man thought Harry was somehow incapable of defending himself. Last Harry checked, he was capable. _Very_ capable, it would have been better if he had been allowed to use magic, but then the fight wouldn't be fair. He supposed though he could have leveled out the scoreboard if he had been allowed to one-up his uncle, particularly after all the years he had been against his uncle's and cousin's brute strength and wrath.

"He's my uncle, I couldn't just throw him and my aunt out! This is supposed to be a family-oriented place, where everyone is welcome. What kind of example would I be giving if I just gave my only surviving family members the boot?" Harry questioned.

"A good one."

" _What_?"

"You would be setting a good example. An example that while you are fair and welcome, you don't allow people to just run over you. And you do not tolerate rudeness or bullies."

"Ever heard of a rhetorical question?" Harry sulked. He knew he had had ample opportunities to handle the situation and contain it before it had gotten out of control, but he hadn't and he didn't need someone, no matter how good looking that man was, to call him out on his failure to stand up against his muggle uncle. (Not that Coulson knew anything about magic and muggles.)

Perhaps something about his uncle still scared him.

And Coulson had merely stepped in to prevent it from escalating further, which he _supposed_ he should be grateful, but the Boy-Who-Lived had always had to fight his own battles, particularly when it came to his muggle family so...  
"How would I be setting a good example if I allowed other people to fight my own battles? I have always had to handle them myself."

Coulson did not answer but gazed at Harry intently for a fleeting second before he changed the subject- sort of. "Do you normally make it a habit to argue with your patrons Mr. Potter? I hear that is bad for business."  
"Only the ones that refuse to give me a straight answer as to why they felt the need to intervene in a personal matter and cause more trouble when it really wasn't necessary. Any other business advice you want to give me since you're so keen on telling me how I ought to run shop?"

"How you run your establishment is up to you, I am merely giving you pointers on how to bring in more business." Coulson pursed his lips again, the wrinkles around his eyes becoming more prominent with the smirk.

Harry glared at Coulson's back, as he had since turned and was leaving the café.

Harry preferred it when the man just minded his own business, he was prettier with his mouth closed.

"Hello, what might I get you today?" Harry flashed a smile at the customer in front of him hoping to forget the pompous but handsome git, who was probably twice his age…

The day went on steadily from there, and no other unexpected people showed up.

Roughly five minutes before he was set to close his doors, two people made an appearance, and this time the two who entered his shop were more than welcome.

"Hermione! Ron!" Harry greeted warmly.

"Harry, how are you doing?" Hermione asked while Ron just looked amazed at everything in the shop like he always does. He complained about Mr. Weasley and how he acted around muggle items, but Ron was just about as bad.

"Never better. Won't you guys sit down? I'll lock the doors here in a few minutes and then we can hit the city."  
"Sure. Ron! I swear, sit down!"  
"But-"  
Harry just smiled at his friends' antics. Somethings would never change.  
"It's okay, so long as you don't do anything stupid and get hurt. You know I'm not good with blood." Harry said pointedly. That was a total lie, and the three friends knew it but Hermione and Ron didn't comment on it as there was a family of muggles still in the shop.

"Just keep a close eye on him, Harry, you know how he is," Hermione advised, but Harry just smiled.

"So what did you do today?" He asked trying to make small talk.

"Oh, Harry it's wonderful! I met up with the Kingsley and went over the petition and advocation for the rights of, well, you know. I have been working on it for a while now, but it still needs a lot of work, but he sounded extremely interested and said he wanted to be kept informed of my progress." Hermione positively beamed. She really wanted to go into detail and explain to Harry just what she proposed for the House Elves, but couldn't.

"I know you will get it right," Harry said kindly thinking of Dobby and all the other house elves who had been treated unfairly by their master's and mistress'. It was about time they got some rights.

"At least someone has faith in me," the witch snorted looking over in Ron's general direction. "Are you sure you don't mind Ron snooping around? I can always…"

"He's fine. I wanted to talk to you anyway about something that happened earlier today, and I'd rather Ron didn't know about it just yet."  
"Oh?"

"The Dursley's came," Harry said with a grimace.

"What? _Here_?" Hermione gasped in shock.  
"Yeah, I saw them today. I figured they wouldn't care to hear the news that I had survived, so I didn't bother to write to them and tell them. Actually, I think Uncle Vernon was more disappointed that I had managed to survive."  
His friend did not look happy with the news but seemed to understand that that was just the Dursley's typical behavior.

"What happened, Harry?"  
"I think my aunt wanted some tea or something and thought that the White Stag might have what she liked, dunno. Bit of a nasty surprise when they saw me."  
"I'll bet! So what happened after-"  
"Goodnight." Harry broke in while standing up and giving a polite smile to the leaving family allowing them to exit his shop before locking the door securely. He was pleased that they remained respectful of his closing hours. Sometimes college students would come in and spend hours treating his café like a library, spreading out all their electronics and books and tempting to stay well past closing hours.

"What happened after they saw you?"  
"Saw who? 'Arry?" Ron reemerged from somewhere with his mouth stuffed full of pastries. "The Dursley's. Ron, keep in mind that I will be keeping a tally on everything you eat and will be charging you for it later," Harry warned jokingly. He didn't care what Ron ate, he baked it to be eaten.

"Hey! I'm your friend!"  
"Yeah, I know, which is why I'm just going to charge the standard price and not double it like George does. So anyway the Dursley's came and Uncle Vernon was spouting off at the mouth like he usually does."  
"Oh no, Harry! What did he say?"  
"He was making a big scene, trying to sell the usual story about how I robbed his family of money and their happiness. He… actually asked me when I'd start paying them back for what I owed them."  
"Owe them? I don't understand, Harry you owe them _nothing_." Hermione said at the same time Ron also said: "I couldn't imagine ever having to pay my mum back for everything."  
"I sort of let my emotions get the better of me and told them that I was a bit more well off than they had originally believed. I'm pretty sure Uncle Vernon was trying to find a way to get his hands on at least some of that money, but he wouldn't have a chance."  
"That was a very foolish thing for you to do, Harry," Hermione said in her usual bossy manner making Ron roll his eyes, but surprisingly, she did not leave it at just that. "But they deserved it. After all, they have done to you, the best way for you to get back at them is to be successful. I think that would make them the maddest."  
Harry smiled his thanks at his friend's support. "How very Slytherin of you Mrs. Weasley."

"Thanks, Harry, but I am serious! You have often said that they hated nothing more than you outdoing your cousin. If they know that your parents and your godfather left you everything then I am sure they will try everything in the power to-"  
"Oh lay off Hermione! The goblins oversee Harry's property and his money is in Gringott's. Those fat muggles wouldn't stand a chance." Ron said almost boastfully, probably for no other reason beyond the wizarding world's "advanced" protection and safeguarding capabilities. The same ones that the three of them had managed to circumvent back when they were just seventeen. Although Ron was right about one thing, they were muggles, they didn't stand a chance at getting Harry's money. Ron knew this and Harry knew this. They all knew it and that was why Harry had taken that risk.

"Well, it's a good thing that they are muggles then! The Dursley's would take everything Harry's ever had if given the chance!"

"I'm pretty sure that Uncle Vernon was already contemplating a way to get his hands on that money I had mentioned," Harry said with a hollow laugh.

"Why'd'ya mention it anyway?"  
"Aunt Petunia wanted some tea or something and reckoned the _White Stag_ was just the place that would carry the kind of tea she liked. I dunno, really, but anyway they came in, saw me and asked me what I was doing."  
"I told them I was working and one thing led to another in the way it usually does with them, and I finally just let out that I owned the place and they wanted to know where I got the loan to open a business."  
Once Harry finished telling Ron what happened a lengthy silence fell over the three friends.

"Well, let's not dull the evening by talking about them. You said there was somewhere you wanted to take us?" Hermione said, finally breaking the silence.


End file.
